the play is taking up most of my time as we get closer to opening night. lots of lines to remember. long monologues where it’s just me talking. olivia had this great idea, though, and it’s helping. i have my fiddle with me onstage and play it a bit while i’m talking. It’s not written that way, but mr. davenport thinks it adds an extra-folksy element to have the stage manager plucking on a fiddle. and for me it’s so great because whenever i need a second to remember my next line, i just start playing a little “soldier’s joy” on my fiddle and it buys me some time.
i’ve gotten to know the kids in the show a lot better, especially the pink-haired girl who plays emily. turns out she’s not nearly as stuck- up as i thought she was, given the crowd she hangs out with. her boyfriend’s this built jock who’s a big deal on the varsity sports circuit at school. it’s a whole world that i have nothing to do with, so i’m kind of surprised that this miranda girl turns out to be kind of nice.
one day we’re sitting on the floor backstage waiting for the tech guys to fix the main spotlight.
so how long have you and olivia been dating? she asks out of the blue.
about four months now, i say.
have you met her brother? she says casually. it’s so unexpected that i can’t hide my surprise. you know olivia’s brother? i ask.
via didn’t tell you? we used to be good friends. i’ve known auggie since he was a baby.
oh, yeah, i think i knew that, i answer. i don’t want to let on that olivia had not told me any of this. i don’t want to let on how surprised i am that she called her via. nobody but olivia’s family calls her via, and here this pink-haired girl, who i thought was a stranger, is calling her via.
miranda laughs and shakes her head but she doesn’t say anything. there’s an awkward silence and then she starts fishing through her bag
and pulls out her wallet. she rifles through a couple of pictures and then hands one to me. it’s of a little boy in a park on a sunny day. he’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt—and an astronaut helmet that covers his entire head.
it was like a hundred degrees that day, she says, smiling at the picture. but he wouldn’t take that helmet off for anything. he wore it for like two years straight, in the winter, in the summer, at the beach. it was crazy.
yeah, i’ve seen pictures in olivia’s house.
i’m the one who gave him that helmet, she says. she sounds a little proud of that. she takes the picture and carefully inserts it back into her wallet.
cool, i answer.
so you’re okay with it? she says, looking at me. i look at her blankly. okay with what?
she raises her eyebrows like she doesn’t believe me. you know what i’m talking about, she says, and takes a long drink from her water bottle. let’s face it, she continues, the universe was not kind to auggie pullman.
